


The Arizona Banana Famine

by Niobium



Series: Jane Foster Works [12]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niobium/pseuds/Niobium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor experiences the simpler side of Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of ficlets about Thor interacting with things like grocery stores and markets, inspired by [this tumblr post](http://lamerrill92.tumblr.com/post/120483786915/suddenly-i-really-want-some-art-or-a-fic-or). 
> 
> Contemporaneous with _[We Have Joyed To Be Forlorn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1556540)_ but that's not in any way required reading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days after his return from Asgard, Jane takes Thor grocery shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set shortly after the end of _Thor: The Dark World_. I know next to nothing about UK grocery stores, so apologies if this is nonsensical in that context.

***

"Do you have this sort of thing on Asgard?"

Sounding way too amused for his own good, Thor said, "Food?"

Jane flushed. The first thing she'd discovered in the wake of Thor's decision to stay on Earth was that he loved teasing her. It was never excessive or about anything which made her truly self-conscious, but he could be relied upon to rise to the opportunity any time it presented itself.

Fortunately, the second thing she'd discovered was that he didn't mind her taking him to task for it, so she poked him in the side. He accepted her censure with a grunt.

"Grocery stores," she said.

"In the capital, yes." Thor paused to take in the facade of the building looming before them. "Though they do not look like this."

"What do they have outside the capital?"

"Large markets, with stalls or smaller shops that specialize in specific things. We have those in the capital as well, but with the population so large and dense, it helps to have emporiums."

Once again Jane cursed how little time she'd spent on Asgard. So they had supermarkets—did they also have department stores, or something like them? Big retail malls? Or was that kind of retail environment not a thing? If she'd just had a day to wander with minimal supervision she could have learned _so much_ about this alien culture in another galaxy which had actually developed and regularly used point to point interstellar travel, and then—

"Shall we go in?" Thor asked. 

Jane tore herself away from musing over might-have-beens and noticed they were getting looks from people maneuvering around them—Thor, really—to go inside. "Yeah, yeah." She snagged a basket as they passed by the stack.

Jane was used to rushing around the store, because she really hated spending any more time in it than necessary, especially when it was this crowded. It became clear this wouldn't work almost immediately, because Thor wanted to examine things and ask her about them. To slow herself down she steered them to the bulk aisle first.

As he watched Jane scoop rice from the bin into a bag, he asked, "Is bargaining over the price allowed, or expected?"

"No. Not in a place like this, anyways. In a market you can try, sometimes they'll be willing to." Jane knotted the bag and tossed it into the cart, and repeated the process with the rolled oats. "Is that a thing in Asgard's markets?"

"In some parts of Asgard it is considered rude not to, but in others, it is not done."

"It's rude to _not_ bargain?"

He nodded. "It is a cultural expectation, particularly among those Æsir who live in the Western Hills. They avoid the capital's emporiums, and only offer their goods in the markets."

"Really? That seems kind of—" Thor raised his eyebrows at her. "—unnecessary? Why not have the prices just, be what they want to receive, and sell their stuff wherever?"

"It is intrinsic in how they interact with one another and the rest of Asgard. If one does not wish to engage with them to do business, there are always other options. There is no need for them to change their ways to suit those who do not care for them."

"I guess, yeah." Jane sighed. "Maybe it just sounds intimidating to me because I'm terrible at negotiating anything." She dropped the bag of oats into the basket.

"I would be happy to negotiate on your behalf if it became necessary."

"Yeah? Are you any good?"

"I am quite skilled." He looked like he was about to continue, and his expression faltered. He cleared his throat. "If not so skilled as others. Still, I am sure I could obtain a fair price for you if haggling were required."

This wasn't the first time his mood had shifted rapidly; it had happened over dinner the other night, and after breakfast on his second day on Earth. She kept meaning to ask him about it, but the grocery store was really _not_ the place for a heart to heart about how he was feeling.

"Be careful," she said, keeping her tone light. "I might take you up on that."

He smiled, and though it was tentative it relieved Jane no end. "I would not mind an opportunity to match wits with a Midgardian vendor," he said.

"In that case we can hit the market tomorrow, and you can help me get a good price on something for my mom to thank her for letting me crash at the house." Jane hefted the basket. "Veggies next."

They started with potatoes. In addition to the bag of King Edwards Jane wanted, they bought one of each other type present—Estima, Romano, and Marabel—so Thor could try them, as well a pair of tropical yams. Next came the onions and garlic. 

Thor fingered the brown onion Jane had picked out while she tried to find three good heads of garlic. "And what are these used for?"

"A whole _lot_ of things. They get sweet depending on how you cook them, especially the garlic. You can put them in soups, salads, on sandwiches, roast them with meat..." She shrugged. "They're a really good filler vegetable." 

"So you do not eat them raw," Thor said.

"Only if you're crazy." Jane settled on a third head that probably had at least one bad clove, but it was an improvement over the rest and she was tired of sifting through them. 

They continued to make their way around the produce section. Any time Jane paused to pick something out Thor would ask her how she chose the right one ("a lot of really gross trial and error") and scrutinize it thoroughly, poking and sniffing and feeling the texture. If she spent more than a few seconds choosing he took to looking at surrounding produce she wasn't buying, careful to use one of the bags when doing so.

A woman who looked old enough to be Jane’s grandmother saw him inspecting an unripe banana, and she said, "Their bananas here are _terrible_.” The tight, disapproving set of her features made this a confidence shared for Thor’s own good. She had salt and pepper hair in short ringlets, light brown, weathered skin, and faded gray eyes, and was well-armored against the dreary fall weather in heavy slacks and a waterproof jacket.

He looked askance at her, then tilted his head and considered the banana more closely. "This is not how it should look?" he asked, and she peered at him.

"You've never seen a ripe banana before?"

Thor shook his head. She narrowed her eyes. "Just where are you from that they don't have bananas?"

Jane chose to intervene before Thor could reply. She sidled up next to him and handed him the now heavy basket, which he took automatically. "He's from Arizona, in the States," she said. "They don't have bananas there. In the part where he’s from."

The woman's eyes widened, and for a panicked moment Jane thought she'd somehow found an old British woman in London who'd been to Arizona at some point in her life. Then the woman frowned, and said, "They don't? How odd, I thought American stores had everything."

Jane gave Thor what she hoped he understood was a Significant Look. His eyes met hers for a moment, and he said, "Where I am from in Arizona, produce is often scarce."

Jane winced inwardly at this escalation in his newly made up past, though thankfully the woman seemed convinced. "Well," she said, and patted his arm. "At least you're in a civilized city now. We've all the bananas you could ever want. But, don't get them here." She gestured out the door. "Go to the market tomorrow—there's bound to be better ones, ones you won't need to wait a week to eat."

"We shall," Thor assured her. "Thank you, madame."

"Oh, you're welcome, dear." She moved on down the aisle to the apples, and Jane heaved a sigh of relief.

"Does Arizona suffer from famine?" Thor said in a low voice as he watched her go.

Jane blinked. "What? Oh, no—well, I mean, some parts are really remote and it’s probably hard to get fresh produce in those places. I just figured she'd probably never been there, and it's a place I _have_ been to and can supply information about."

He nodded. "And am I from Arizona now?"

She looked up at him. "Do you want to be? Or do you want to just, tell people who you are?"

"That would depend on whether or not it will make trouble for you."

She hadn't thought of that, and it was a real concern. Either he'd be believed, and so SHIELD would show up, or he wouldn't be, in which case the cops might get called.

Someone reached across Jane for a peach. _Grocery store_ , she reminded herself. _Not the place for this_. "We can think about it over dinner. Time for the packaged stuff."

If Thor had been interested in the produce, the packaged goods fascinated him. He started reading the labels almost immediately, murmuring under his breath as he did so. Jane kept track of him as she picked out almond butter (a minor extravagance given her meager compensation as a visiting scholar, but it would go a long way on toast and in sandwiches), honey, and beans. 

When she came to deposit a few things in the basket she found him considering the array of soups. "Is canned soup a thing in Asgard?"

He nodded. "We have something similar. Though the containers are different. The material is made to be reused, and it is covered in a layer that displays the information on a surface which can be reprogrammed."

Jane stared at him. "You—you use smart paper on your soup cans?"

"Smart paper," Thor said, like he was trying the words out. "I think that is an accurate description for it in your language." He nodded to himself, then looked at her. "There is as little waste as possible then. The empty containers are collected and cleaned, and reprogrammed for their next use." He took a can of soup and contemplated it. "This could be recycled, but it would be more work, I think, to do so."

"But not as expensive to make. I mean, those materials and that technology..." She gestured. "It sounds kind of fancy for a soup can."

Thor shrugged. "They are not so very costly or difficult for us to produce. Is it not better to create as little waste as possible?"

"But what about when you clean the containers?"

" _That_ is a form of waste management my oldest ancestors came to terms with when they were still crossing the stars in their ships."

Jane hardly knew which part of that sentence to react to first. "Ships? Wh—" She stopped when a young woman who'd been standing on the other side of the aisle began sidling away from them with wide eyes. "We're definitely talking about this over dinner. In detail."

Thor held up the can. "Our dinner of tomato soup?"

Jane added it to the basket. "No, that's lunch. Come on, we still need bread, then the meat and dairy and we're out of here."

***

The next afternoon Darcy came over to help Jane write grants. During a break they ate their lunch of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches with Thor, who'd just come back from a who-knew-how-many-miles-long jog.

"By the way," Darcy said between spoonfuls of soup, "we need to come up with some kind of cover for you." She pointed at Thor with her soup spoon. "At least until we can figure out a fake passport or something." 

Thor was freshly showered and smelled wonderful and was the precise definition of distracting. Jane wondered how much longer it would be before Darcy left for the day. 

"We have done so," he said, and Jane mentally surfaced from her plans for the evening.

Darcy looked between them. "Yeah?"

Thor nodded. "I am to be from Arizona."

Jane was so impressed with how sincere he sounded that she didn't stop him. Darcy gave Jane a sideways glance. "Arizona?" she said.

"Yes.” Thor had a bite of his sandwich. “I am fortunate to have moved here, because they are experiencing a banana famine."

Darcy stared at him. “A banana...famine.”

Thor was having to work to suppress his smile now. “Yes. Produce is scarce. I assure you it is quite dire.” 

Darcy looked at Jane. Jane smiled as winningly as she could.

“Well,” Darcy said, “that totally does _not_ sound like something an alien made up,” and went back to her soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you all know, when I was looking up banana availability in the UK, [this](http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/oct/19/killer-spider-supermarket-shopping) was the first Google hit (spider picture/story, you have been warned!).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arizona’s famine is worse than imagined. Or, Jane takes Thor to a butcher shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set some time just before _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_.

***

Their first trip to an actual butcher shop happened some months later, after one of Jane’s larger grant proposals was funded. Her experience with the Convergence opened numerous doors which had previously been closed to her, and although she knew this was due, in part, to being one of the only astrophysicists on the planet with first hand data, she had no intention of turning down the opportunities it presented. Her collaboration with Dr. Ramachandran secured her computing cluster time, which in turn lead to a paper, and that went a long way towards garnering attention for her and her work. All of this meant money, and that lead to paying Darcy a reasonable wage and living off something other than simple soups and her mother’s good will. At this rate, she’d be able to move into her own modest apartment very soon. First, though, she upgraded her eating habits.

Their grocery shopping had taken on a routine which wasn’t very social, owing in part to Jane’s desire to get in and out of the store as fast as possible. Thor did try to make small talk with the employees, but they seemed disinclined to chat, so Thor spent most of the time reading containers and asking Jane questions.

The butcher shop was an entirely different situation. He went right to the case and began looking everything over, and after a minute or so the proprietor—a lanky, black-skinned man with short cropped hair, bright, hazel eyes, and a Scottish accent—asked if they had any questions. 

Before Jane could respond, Thor said, “Yes. Can you tell me about the cuts for,” he pointed at a line of beef steaks, “this animal?”

The butcher gave him a confused look. “Certainly. I take it you’re not too familiar with beef?”

Jane nudged his foot. Thor said, “No, not especially. It is somewhat expensive where I’m from.”

“Oh? Where-abouts is that?”

“Arizona.”

The butcher squinted. “Ah. That’s in the Southwest part of the States, right? Desert? I guess cattle’d have to be brought in to a place like that, though I figured that was just how it was done everywhere in the US.”

Jane said, “It is, but, he’s from a really remote part of Arizona.” The butcher nodded.

“Makes sense. Well then.” He grabbed a thin pamphlet from a set stacked at the far end of the counter. “S’what these are for. This side’s beef and lamb, that side’s pork and chicken. Then we’ve got your other fowl here,” he pointed at a red flier, “your game hens and duck and that sort of thing, and then over there are some papers for the more exotic meats—ostrich, emu, and so on. I don’t always have those, of course. Availability varies a bit, and they’re costly.” He smiled and added, “Name’s Kenneth.”

Thor dipped his head in an almost bowing motion. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Kenneth. I am Thor.”

“And, I’m Jane,” Jane added. Kenneth smiled at each of them, though his expression quickly faded into a puzzled look.

“Thor? As in,” Kenneth raised his hand and shook it like he was holding something.

Before she even realized she was doing it Jane had blurted out, “His parents are from Iceland. They moved to Arizona because they were tired of it being cold all the time.” 

As with the old woman in the grocery store months earlier, Jane thought Kenneth wasn’t going to buy it. And maybe he didn’t, because for a moment he looked at Thor, and she was sure he’d recognized him. Then he laughed, and the moment was gone as quick as it had come. “Now _there’s_ a switch for ya.” The shop door jingled, admitting two more customers. Kenneth glanced around Thor to nod a hello to them, and gestured at the case. “Well, if you’ve any more questions, about where it’s sourced from or what to get, just let me know.” He moved down the counter to greet the new arrivals.

Thor bobbed his eyebrows at Jane and gave her a secretive smile, and she elbowed him. Looking somewhat chastised, he held up the pamphlet for them to confer over.

It was a good thing Kenneth didn’t mind questions, because Thor was practically _made_ of them. Once they’d decided on what they wanted and the current customer was gone, Thor struck up another conversation with Kenneth. An hour later, they left with their selection: two whole chickens, beef chuck for making their own ground beef (Thor insisted that was something he could do, and Jane’s mother had a stand mixer with a grinding attachment so she didn’t argue), top round and bones for making soup, and a bottom round roast.

“I’m glad mom has a big freezer,” Jane said as they unpacked everything in the kitchen. Darcy eyed the haul with wide eyes.

“Wow, did you get an entire cow?”

“I inquired,” Thor said, “and Kenneth said he could obtain one at a fair price, though Jane feels there is not sufficient space to store it.”

Darcy blinked. “Oh, I didn’t know you could buy a whole cow, I was just...” She gestured at the stack of white-paper wrapped packages which Jane was shoving into the freezer.

Thor continued as if Darcy hadn’t just suggested buying a cow was a ridiculous concept you would only joke about. “If you can be certain you will be able to consume all of it, it is the best use of funds.”

“Isn’t it expensive though?” Darcy picked up the package of stew meat and bones and eyed the price. Jane took it from her and put it in the refrigerator.

Thor nodded. “It is a large immediate cost. Though as with many things, the better price is had over time, when one does not continue to purchase additional meat piecemeal and instead relies on the money already spent.”

“Mmmm, and we know what that means,” Darcy said. Thor raised his eyebrows at her. “Rich people spend less than poor people, because they can afford to pay more up front.”

Thor made a low sound and nodded. “Yes, this is often the case when there are not measures in place to protect those who cannot afford to buy goods in this manner.” Thor set his tablet down on the counter; he’d pulled up instructions for cleaning and roasting a whole chicken. “I believe I shall be able to prepare one of these birds,” he said to Jane, “if you wish to have it tonight. Kenneth said the remains can be used to make a soup.”

“Ah, sure,” Jane said. “The roasting pan should be in the bottom storage tray under the range.”

Thor donned the larger of the kitchen’s two aprons (which was still comically tiny on him) and began digging things out of the refrigerator. Jane fetched her laptop so she could catch up on email, and Darcy moved over to the counter and leaned against it, watching Thor. Jane half-listened to them talking, because most of her messages were listserv entries about topics which only half-concerned her.

“So. You cook a lot?”

“I would not say a great deal, but I am neither useless nor dangerous in a kitchen.”

There was a pause in which a knife cut something with a decisive sound, and the smell of fresh lemon filled the kitchen. “Definitely not useless,” Darcy said. There were more chopping sounds, and she added, “Can’t say I’m sold on the ‘not dangerous’ part, though.” 

Thor laughed. “This simpler sort of preparation is something most of us are taught in school.”

“Yeah? They really teach you how to cook?”

“Of course. The proper management of a household is an essential skill as an adult. It would be an embarrassment to all Æsir were we to travel to other Realms and appear incapable of surviving on our own as adults.”

Wistfully, Darcy said, “Your schools sound awesome already.”

“You do not learn these things in a Midgardian school?”

“Not in the US.” There was a creak as Darcy shifted against the counter to fold her arms. “Not the schools I went to, anyways. What about you Jane?”

Jane shook her head. Darcy said, “Maybe, if you’re lucky, they teach you how to balance a checkbook. But buying a car? Shopping in bulk and on a budget? Doing laundry? Applying for jobs? No way. Your parents get to teach you all of that.”

Thor grunted. “Certainly parents may give guidance, but they should not be required to teach their children everything. Their professions might be demanding and taxing, and leave them with little time or energy for instruction. It is to the benefit of all that that the denizens of the Realm be taught such basic tasks. What better place to learn them than in school?”

“Wow, her mom is going to _love_ you,” Darcy said.

Jane felt her ears grow warm, and tried to pretend like she wasn’t paying attention. Thor said, “Do you think so? Will she approve of a man from a remote desert land which is beset by a banana and cattle famine?” He sounded as pleased as he did amused. Jane hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“Now it’s bananas _and_ cows?”

Jane said, “He told the butcher they didn’t have beef where he used to live.”

A roasting pan rattled, and Jane looked up from her laptop. Thor was trussing the herb- and salt-coated chicken, pausing every now and then to confer with his tablet. Darcy had taken down some mugs from the cupboard, and the kettle was heating on the stove.

“Man, Arizona’s got it rough,” Darcy said. She popped open the tea jar and filled three motley steepers, which sent the sharp smells of cinnamon, orange, ginger, and licorice into the kitchen to compete with the poultry seasoning. “Anyways, it’s not like you _caused_ the famine.”

“Can you be so sure? Perhaps that is why I left.” The oven announced that it was ready with a beep, and Thor slid the pan in and washed his hands. 

Darcy made a face. “We’ll just leave that part out. You’re from Arizona, you left because food was scarce out in the middle of the desert, and you wanted to see the world. How’s that sound, Jane?”

Jane nodded. “Completely believable,” she said, and deleted an entire thread of emails in which two grad students were arguing over the correct usage of the computing cluster’s resources.

***

The next day Erik came over to help on the paper, and they convened in the living room with drinks while Thor prepared a tray of snacks in the kitchen. Darcy joined them so she could pester Jane for immediate answers to her her questions rather than wait days for a response to an email which might be lost or ignored among dozens of others.

As he came in, Erik said, “It smells amazing in here. What did you have for lunch?”

“Chicken soup,” Darcy said. “Thor roasted a chicken last night, and made soup out of the leftovers this afternoon.”

“Really?” Erik settled on the couch and took out his laptop. “I wouldn’t have taken him for a cook.”

“He insists he just knows enough to keep himself alive,” Jane said. 

Erik seemed to think about that, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose soup and roasting meat are fairly basic things.”

“Maybe for him,” Jane said. “Cereal’s more my speed. But he really hit it off with the butcher.”

Darcy sipped from her mug of tea. “Good thing, since Arizona’s out of cows.”

Erik glanced up from his laptop and frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, looking from Jane to Darcy and back.

“Arizona is having a banana and cow famine,” Darcy said. Thor came in from the kitchen with a tray of goat cheese, fruit preserves, and crackers.

“And, produce is scarce in the remote regions,” he added. “Where I hail from. This is in all likelihood my fault, which is why I was forced to leave.”

Erik’s expression cleared. “Ah. I see. A smokescreen.” He tapped his chin with his glasses. “Not a bad idea, really—you’re not likely to run into anyone from those parts around here, and if you do, you can always claim you’re from a different area of the state than they’re familiar with. Though I’d, ah, leave out the rest. It’s a bit of a stretch.”

Darcy slathered goat cheese and raspberry preserves onto a cracker. “Is it really a stretch though? When’s the last time you bought a banana grown in Arizona?”

Erik gave Darcy a tired look. “They import them. You can’t grow bananas in Arizona, the climate’s all wrong.”

Darcy shook her head. “Sounds like a banana famine to me,” she said, and bit into her cracker decisively.

Thor sat next to Jane and exchanged a knowing smile with her. She rubbed his leg and had some tea, and he kissed the top of her head.

Erik sighed at all of them and turned his attention back to his computer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Darcy take Thor to a market, where they learn about an actual Arizona problem.

***

"This is going to be great."

Jane winced at the sight of the crowds milling among the stalls and shops. Lovely days always meant a market overstuffed with people, locals and tourists alike. "By great do you mean awful?"

"No, I mean great," Darcy said, and adjusted her shoulder bag strap. "The weather's perfect, that guy who sells the awesome scarves is here, you got another grant funded so we’re no longer completely destitute and can afford to buy a couple things, and best of all, we have Thor, so we might get through this in under four hours without getting separated."

Thor set his hand at the small of Jane’s back. “I’ll stay near you so the crowds are not so confining,” he said.

It was true that people tended to give Thor a wider-than-usual berth, which Darcy insisted was due to him exuding an alien aura (”I am not gifted with spirit sense,” Thor had said with a frown), and Jane put down to him simply being large and intimidating by human standards. Regardless of its source, he had become adept at using his exclusion zone to create a space Jane could move in with relative comfort. Parties and malls were so much more tolerable as a result.

Despite this, Jane had to steel herself as they dove into the market’s fray. Even with Thor’s presence keeping the stifling press of people at bay, the noise level was immense in the more crowded spots. But Darcy was right: having Thor along improved things immensely. He always stayed within arm's length of Jane, and any time Darcy waded off into the distance she had no trouble finding her way back to them by spotting him (he was almost half a foot taller than anyone else in the crowd).

Jane distracted herself from the crowds by watching Thor move from table to table. He didn’t visit all of them, since their various trips to grocery stores and butcher shops meant he was largely familiar with most of the produce and meat available in London, though he did stop to look at anything new or different and ask the vendor about it. 

Eyeing a stack of pomegranates suspiciously, he said, “How do you eat these?”

The pale, straw blond, young woman overseeing this side of the broad fruit stand held up one which had been split in half. “You crack it open and these,” she said, tapping the seeds.

“One at a time?”

“Or by the handful.”

“So you must pick them all out first?”

She nodded. Thor’s brow furrowed, and she said, “There’s ways to get them out easier. You can roll them around before you cut them, or soak them in water.”

“That seems a great deal of work. Is their flavor worth the effort?”

In response she held out a small bowl full of the seeds, and Thor took a few and popped them in his mouth. He blinked in surprise.

“They are quite delicious,” he admitted, and turned to Jane. “Shall we buy some? I will see if I can trick these seeds out from their hiding place for us to enjoy with dinner.”

Jane couldn’t really say no to pomegranate seeds if someone _else_ was harvesting them, so she handed over her money and Thor stowed two in his linen satchel. Darcy drifted back to them, now in possession of a meringue, and they continued.

Their first stop of significant length was the scarf seller. He was a middle-aged Welsh gentleman whose scarves Darcy had been lusting over for at least a year. Now that she had the funds to afford one nothing was going to stop her from making a purchase. He had a broad selection, from hand-knit to painted silk to velvet devoré to pashmina. Some were light, ephemeral things more suited to days like today; others were thick and fluffy, the kind you bought cheap in summer and saved for a few months in the future.

Thor ran his hand over a merino wool, knit scarf in dark gray and purple. “Will you buy one as well?” he asked Jane. 

She was watching Darcy compare two pieces, one a silk scarf with a long, winding, floral pattern of reds and blues, the other a lovely pashmina in dusty rose and black. It took her a second to register Thor’s question. “What? Oh, no—I have a hundred scarves. I went through a scarf-buying phase. I definitely don’t need another.”

“No?” Thor said. The tone of his voice caught Jane’s attention, and she found him holding a dove gray and green and silk scarf with coppery highlights out at an angle, as if to judge how well it went with her features. 

“No,” she repeated firmly. The scarf-seller was watching them, having just taken money from Darcy in exchange for the pashmina scarf. Thor sighed and shook his head at the man, and the man gave him an answering shrug.

As they moved on, the scarf seller called after Jane, “I’ll be here until four if you change your mind, ma’am.”

Thor bobbed his eyebrows at Jane. “A hundred, at least,” she said, and didn’t look back.

They continued shuffling along with the crowd, stopping here and there to peruse tables covered with all sorts of wares: hand-thrown ceramics, glass bead necklaces, fabric remnant purses. Having spent most of her personal limit, Darcy looked but didn’t buy. Jane had offered to get something for Thor, but he’d declined, and was content to examine at things and talk to the vendors about their materials or why they made what they did or where they were from. 

The next section of the market was largely centered on food, though unlike the earlier area, which was fresh produce and meat, this was ‘prepared’ items: breads, jams and preserves, pickled foods, cheeses, dried meats and fruits, street food, and so on. Thor was just as interested in all of these offerings as he’d been with the prepackaged goods in the grocery store, maybe more so since the producers were right there for him to talk to. Of all the things to catch his attention, though, it was the beekeeper’s table he stayed at the longest.

She was a middle-aged looking woman, heavy set and dressed in denim pants and a loose, blue, linen shirt. She had long, thick, auburn and white hair pulled back into a tight braid, tawny skin, and black-brown eyes. Her table held a wide array of things: soaps, lip balm, honey combs, whipped honey flavored with cherry or cinnamon or lemon, raw and filtered honey, and body bars. The prices weren’t any higher than in a store (in fact the raw honey was a fair bit cheaper), and she offered a few different bundles at a minor discount.

“Hello there,” she said as they added themselves to the small huddle of people going over her things. “Out enjoying the lovely day? Found anything fun?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Darcy said, and tugged one edge of her scarf out for the beekeeper to see.

“Oh, is Bran here today?” She craned her neck, peering down the aisle. “I wonder if I can get Lynne to watch things for me so I can peak at what he’s brought...”

“Maybe leave your wallet and just take a set amount of money,” Darcy advised. The beekeeper grinned.

“Not a bad idea. I don’t need a half-dozen new scarves.” Her attention shifted to Thor, who was reading one of the placards describing their farm and its bees with rapt interest. “Do you know much about bees?”

Thor shook his head. “Apart from the ones I’ve encountered in the wild, no. They are curious animals. You keep them yourself?” 

For a moment the woman seemed puzzled, maybe because Thor had called the bees ‘animals’, but she shook it off in short order. “Yes, we have our own hives. Family-owned farm, me and my sister and our spouses and kids. I’m Vivian,” she said, offering her hand, which Thor shook.

“Well met, Vivian. I am Thor.”

“And I’m Darcy, and this is Jane,” Darcy added, shaking hands with Vivian. Jane reached across a stack of sweet-smelling soap to shake hands as well.

“Well you two are obviously from the States,” Vivian said, “or actresses practicing your accents, and if that’s the case you’re dead on.” She considered Thor. “And with a name like that you must be Scandinavian of some sort, right? Iceland? Maybe Norway?” Jane thought there was a glint in Vivian’s eyes as she guessed, and again she wondered how fooled anyone really was by Thor wandering around in jeans and button-down shirts.

Darcy said, “Actually he’s from Arizona.”

Vivian’s coy smile gave way to genuine interest. "Arizona? Really?” Thor nodded. Jane thought he tried a little too hard to look sincere, though Vivian didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care. “You know, I was just reading about their problems with honey."

Somewhat hesitantly, Thor said, "Yes, it has been difficult to find.”

"I imagine so. Production down despite the country as a whole being on a rebound, nowhere near as many citrus groves as there used to be, not enough farms that don’t use pesticides—and they’ve had a stretch of wet winters. Plus, now everyone’s sending their hives out to pollinate, oh, whatever it is. Some nut or another in California. I’ve heard you can’t find local honey anymore, it’s all brought in from other parts of the country."

“And local honey’s supposed to help with allergies,” Darcy said. Vivian pointed at her.

“Exactly.” She shook her head. “A bloody shame, too—Mesquite honey, some of the most interesting honey I’ve ever tasted. Sometimes I think I should go on a trip to the Americas just to sample all the monoflorals I’ll never get here.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed. “There is a way to have the bees use only one plant when they make honey?” He gave the placard describing the bees a dubious look. “They do not sound as though they would take direction.”

Vivian barked a laugh. “They sure don’t. It’s really more a trick of timing and placement. See, some plants make a lot more nectar than others, so it basically drowns out the rest. Or a plant might be one of the only things blooming at a given time. Long as you collect anything lingering before that production starts, and take the new honey promptly, you can be reasonably certain you’ll get a single source. And then of course you can just put your hives smack in the middle of a big farm of one type of plant.”

“Ah,” Thor said. He actually sounded a little disappointed. “It is a shame you cannot communicate with them, and come to an agreement on what they make.”

To Jane’s unending relief, Vivian seemed to think Thor was just being funny. “Ha! Wouldn’t that be nice? Then I could plant whatever I feel like, and tell the hive, ‘No, this dogwood’s not for you. Go and collect from the heather, just as we agreed.’”

Thor started to say something, and Jane bumped his knee. He flinched ever-so-slightly. With a sideways glance at Jane, he said, “Perhaps one day you will have a way to do that.”

Vivian sighed. “Oh, don’t I wish.”

“Hey, speaking of things your home state is having trouble with,” Darcy said, and picked up a jar of hawthorn honey. “How about we get this and make ourselves some banana honey nut muffins?” She chased her suggestion with an overly innocent look at Thor.

Either playing along or being completely sanguine (and sometimes it was hard to tell with him), Thor said, “Shall we have them with our beef soup at dinner?”

Darcy beamed. “Sure, we can call it the Arizona Special.”

Vivian raised her eyebrows at the two of them and turned a confused look on Jane. Jane pulled out some money and assured her, “It’s _so_ not worth explaining.”

***

They baked the muffins when they got home, and Thor held to his plans to have them accompany their beef soup dinner. The soup was salty and heavy with burgundy and vegetable flavors, making the muffins a perfect counterpoint, especially when slathered liberally with sweet cream butter. After Darcy had left for the evening, Jane and Thor curled up on the couch with tea (sweetened with more of the honey) and books. Jane didn’t make it far into hers; all the walking had tired her out, and soon she’d set it aside in favor of resting her head on Thor’s shoulder while he read.

“You still have to help me find something nice for my mom,” she reminded him around a yawn.

“That is true. Perhaps we can do that next weekend, at this market or another.” He put his book down (one of her mom’s, something about the Dead Sea Scrolls), and said, “How long before she returns?”

“Oh, at least another month. Her sabbaticals are always pretty random.” Thor made a low sound and breathed against Jane’s hair. She tilted her head and peered up at him. “You’re not worried about meeting her, are you?”

“Of course not,” he said, and it was the most bald-faced lie he’d told her yet.

“Uh-huh.” She gave him a brief kiss. “Well, you shouldn’t be. You’re not _actually_ some bum from Arizona who wrecked their agricultural economy, after all.”

“Am I not?”

She patted his arm. “No.”

“Do you wish for me to tell your mother the truth, then?”

Jane sighed. She loved her mother, but she wasn’t sure they always understood one another. Would she freak out, or would she be fascinated? Would she want nothing to do with Thor, or would she want to pick his brain about all things xenopolitical? Would she think it par for the course that her astrophysicist daughter—who took after her cosmologist husband more than she might always care for—had landed herself an alien boyfriend while researching on the fringes of her field?

“I think you should tell her whatever you’re comfortable with,” Jane said. “And if that’s a story about you inflicting plagues on an unsuspecting Southwestern US state and getting kicked out because you’re a nuisance, so be it.” She reached up and stroked his chin, running her fingers through his beard. “But if it’s how you’re an alien from another galaxy whose people have developed point-to-point interstellar travel and built their own world, well, that’s okay too.”

Thor dipped his head and kissed her palm. “I think I prefer to be myself, rather than a blight on an unsuspecting land, it is true. Though not if it will strain your relationship with your mother.”

Jane blew out a breath. “It won’t. If anything she might try to make you tell her everything about Asgard’s history. As in literally everything. I hope you like dictating.”

“You think she will wish to be the first to write a Midgardian historian’s perspective on my people?”

Jane grimaced. “Do _not_ suggest that to her, under _any_ circumstances, unless you have someone you can foist her off onto.”

Thor rubbed his chin. “Fandral is quite gifted with words, and Volstagg would love to tell his tales to someone who has not heard them. They would not—” He stopped short when Jane prodded him in the stomach. “I shall make no mention of it,” he assured her.

She hmph’d against his collarbone. “You can tell _me_ all about it though,” she said, and kissed his neck.

“Can I?” He slid an arm around her back and urged her onto his lap, which she was more than happy to comply with. “And where shall I start? There is a great deal to tell.”

Jane looped her arms about his neck. “Start with...your people’s food.”

“Our food?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Yeah. You’ve been learning all about ours, but I barely saw or had anything when I was on Asgard.” She toyed with his hair, and his eyes half-shut. “Tell me about what you farm. _How_ you farm. Who does the farming.” She leaned in and murmured close against his ear, “Tell me about alien food.”

He didn’t get very far with his descriptions. But that was okay; Jane would just ask again in the morning, over coffee and banana honey nut muffins.


End file.
